Disclaimer: The following story depicts sexual acts between two men. Though unspecified, both participants are intended to be over eighteen. If such material offends you, or you are offended by profanity, please do not continue reading. This story belongs to Timothy Evans and should not be distributed to other sites without expressed consent. Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated.
Prelude
It is said in the Ancient Texts that humans were once gods. They could create and destroy. They could call winds and dam rivers, move continents and soar through the skies. After all, gods had created humans in their likeness, physical, spiritual, and magical. In that lost age, the humans waged a war with the gods. The battle ravaged the earth, and the gods emerged victorious, stripping the humans of their powers. These powers could not be destroyed, however, and so the gods sealed them away in the Seeds, scattered across the lands. The gods were weakened and tired, and it took the last of those powers to bind the Seeds in the earth, so that they would not be reunited with human flesh. The gods then slept, leaving the earth to fall into chaos.
Diavoro stared at the glass case in front of him, containing one of the Erasaph Seeds. For thousands of years it laid in the earth, waiting for the gods' binding power to fade, until it could break free. He didn't know when the Brethren found it, or how, but they revered it, feared it. The Seed contained the awesome powers of darkness and destruction, and the cowards kept it here in a box, too frightened to reunite it with the human flesh it so desired. Diavoro wasn't afraid.
He didn't carry a torch down to the dark cavern where the Seed waited, but his eyes had adjusted enough to see the exit. They would know someone had taken the Seed, but they would not know it was him. He'd smeared his face and hands and feet black with charcoal, and he wore a black cloak. Picking up a hand-sized stone, he smashed it into the case. The sound of the shattering glass echoed in the cave, and he grabbed the Seed and ran.
As soon as he got out of the room, he heard voices echo behind him. He didn't look back, but looked ahead to be sure of his escape. He hurtled through the tunnels, making sharp turns around corners he'd taken days to memorize. The Brethren met in an underground fortress, a maze of tunnels and caves that an outsider could lose himself in forever.
Around a corner he plowed into one of the Brothers, the two of them collapsing on the ground. The impact stunned him for a moment, and he held the Seed tight to his chest. The Brother looked up at him. "My Brother, where are you going in such a hurry?" Diavoro found he'd lost his voice, and again he heard his pursuers, louder this time. He pushed himself up off the Brother and found his footing, running faster through the labyrinth.
Up ahead he could hear the sound of a rushing waterfall. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he held the Seed closer just to remind himself it was still there. The tunnel sloped upwards, and he felt himself slowing down, his legs like lead. The sound of his pursuers grew louder.
He emerged from the tunnel, stopping himself before he tumbled over the edge of a cliff. The waterfall roared to his right, crashing into a deep, churning pool below him. He looked around himself. There was no way down, other than back in the cave. Voices echoed in the tunnel, loud enough to hear over the waterfall. He was trapped.
He knelt down and covered his head with the cloak. He didn't want his pursuers to see his face, even with the charcoal.
"You've got nowhere to go. Hand over the Seed!"
Diavoro didn't turn. His heart raced, and he loosed the cord that bound his cloak together. He pulled his arms inside his sleeves, along with the Seed, so that it rested on his bare chest.
"Hand over the Seed!"
Diavoro stood slowly, calmly, and jumped.
***
The cool water ripped the cloak from his body, leaving him naked. He held his breath and swam under the water, using one arm to secure the Seed against his chest. When he opened his eyes the water was almost clear, except for the froth from the waterfall. He could hear the deafening roar behind him, but he'd jumped clear of the undertow. He swam until he reached the shore, spotting where a tangle of bushes dipped into the water. Surfacing there, he gasped, then looked up through the thick leaves at the cliff. The Brothers were still there, searching for him.
He set down the Seed beside him and scrubbed the charcoal off his body. His heart had calmed enough for him to notice his pulsing cock, and he felt alive and charged. He splashed his face once more, then looked up again at the Brothers. One turned to leave, while the other stayed watch.
Diavoro knew he'd bought himself some time, but there would be a search party out soon. Grabbing the Seed, he crawled into the bushes, staying low and making as little movement as possible. The branches scratched his bare skin, but he was no stranger to pain, being one of the Brethren.
The Brethren was a fraternity dedicated to the worship of darkness. Out of darkness came the light, and out of destruction was born creation. The Brethren saw the darkness in the world, and they welcomed it, for it signaled the dawn of a new light. But the Brethren operated on the faith that with the darkness would come destruction. They were wrong. Those who wanted creation to come must first bring destruction to the world.
Diavoro emerged from the bushes in a forest where the canopy of leaves so blocked the light that only soft earth lay underneath. Only the rare patch of moss or ferns managed to survive in the shade. He walked straight ahead, the scratches from the bushes stinging on his skin.
After a while he reached a small brook and stepped in, the cold water washing over his feet, and proceeded upstream. Here there was a break in the leaves overhead, and foliage grew thick and lush. Diavoro felt the sun beating down on his neck and paused a moment, bearing his chest to the light. The heat invigorated him, and he stretched his muscles, tight from the swimming and crawling.
Farther down the brook he spotted the flowering azalea. It was a wonder to him how such a thing of beauty grew in this place. Stopping, he stepped out of the brook and inhaled its sweet aroma. Underneath the bush he found his clothes and a long cloth bandage. He pressed the Seed to his chest, using the bandage to bind it there. Then he put on his trousers and tunic, and a leather coat to hide the Seed. He rinsed his feet and slipped into his sandals, then headed out of the forest.
***
Once out of the forest, the town where he lived was only up the hill. It was a quiet town, with the essential blacksmith, tailor, and bar. The farm was on the other side of the town, run by Turin, a kind man whom Diavoro thought too simple, and yet the man raised beautiful horses and Diavoro had gained permission to ride one a few days after he moved there.